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Poem

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  • Poem

    The Princess of the Black Stone Bailey

    A free priest, away and merry
    Easy to rove the dreaming downs
    Saw a princess framed in window stone
    The Princess of the black stone bailey
    Above the gates that groaned apart
    To admit his ringing bell and holy form
    From an open air,
    While the green hills, open road
    And slanting skies
    Bid him walk the other way.

    Beautiful, the princess wise
    Of the black stone bailey
    Above the full-swung gate
    Where the priest now stood.
    How her metal hair should
    Send a lathe-spun light
    At once twice yellow, full bright
    A burst star, flying
    Beams of wild delight!
    How knowledge beneath her brow
    Should glow in her eyes a cool appreciation,
    Open, alert, placid blue, soft consummations
    Of softer desires and darkened dreams
    Like placid skis behind gothic spires
    That beckon with piercing insinuation,
    Or can repel again
    With softly narrowed attenuation.

    A book against her breast was open
    Where was written her devotions,
    But this princess other words
    She knew, a siren's song,
    A Kirke's creaking incantation
    That ever calls the shadow-life
    Lost shades to Aeaea:
    Alongside her missal prayers
    Discernment exceeding comprehension
    To enjoin a free priest
    Of self-same learning!

    He now mounts the bailey stair
    Rising up in spiral gyre
    To join her in the tower lair,
    Like Icarus a sun to see,
    Or like the scores' gray fulmers
    Who cry "Wind!" and pierce the sky.
    So he enters the tower room,
    Withal the bailey attic
    Her quotient-musk fills the air.

    Open hand he shows and lifts
    From her breast the missal book.
    "Friend," says he soft
    And gentle shakes his bell,
    "Speak to me your bailey prayer."

    In like stillness she makes answer
    His honest request
    And coldly whispers four hot lines
    So all may be redressed
    In man and woman
    In bird and beast
    Over Earth and higher Heaven:

    "To Love we Forgive
    To Forgive we Love
    For Rebirth we are Born
    Forever, save Death, we Live."

    Such these words the free priest heard
    Whispered by the round-eyed Princess
    In the sky-borne
    Black stone bailey.

  • #2
    oooh... loved it all!

    but one word makes me like... want to change it: "hot." weird how one word (to me) doesn't fit. but everything else totally does.

    i could see it and feel it all, well done. and.. bailey implies some sort of prison. is she ever freed?

    Comment


    • #3
      Hi PG:

      Thanks for having a look. You are absolutely right about that "hot". Thanks for catching it. Hmmm....


      And coldly whispers four cold lines ?


      And coldly whispers four old lines ?


      And coldly whispers four wise lines ?


      Any suggestons?



      Um, does she get out of the tower? No, she's still there--though the prison has taken on the appearance of Oxford university! Don Quixote would assert that she has fallen under an enchantment, and I went along with this view for a long time, that is until I discovered that she was in fact the enchanter. Let us sing in praise of new beginnings.... :lol:

      ....And thus we transcend mundane realities, convert them into art, and reveal what's best in all things. Or so I have read.

      To be continued....

      Comment


      • #4
        Originally posted by Carter Kaplan

        And coldly whispers four old lines ?


        Any suggestons?
        If you're doing poetry by democracy, that's the line that gets my vote!

        Comment


        • #5
          *thinks about it*

          Comment


          • #6
            Four bold lines.

            Comment

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